


Ugly Christmas Sweaters

by AuthorOutOfTime



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Stucky Secret Santa 2014, Ugly Holiday Sweaters, and he allows everyone to use it, no injuries, not sure how else to tag that, old mcbarton had a farm, snowbound stucky, super soldiers snogging, there's a tiny car accident but no one gets hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-03 22:16:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2889875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuthorOutOfTime/pseuds/AuthorOutOfTime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve and Bucky are supposed to be back at the Avengers Tower for a Christmas party, but they got sidetracked and are running late. It's snowing like crazy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ugly Christmas Sweaters

**Author's Note:**

  * For [godcaprio](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=godcaprio).



> I wasn't actually planning to be involved in this, but I'm kind of a pinch hitter for TheMeaningOfHaste, who couldn't do this due things, stuff, and shenanigans. I hope my person enjoys it!

“Hurry up, Buck, or we’re not going to beat the storm. We should have left an hour ago.”

Admittedly, it was partly Steve’s fault. All he had to say was ‘not now’ when Bucky stepped into the shower with him. But, one thing led to another and Steve found himself on his knees with Bucky’s hands fisted in his hair while water ran in gentle rivulets down Bucky’s chest.

“I’m not wearing this.” Bucky stood in the doorway holding up a sweater with a disgusted look he normally reserved for oatmeal at breakfast and liver for dinner.

“It’s an ugly sweater party. You have to. I’m wearing one!” Steve threw his arms wide. He wore a bright blue sweater that featured two dinosaurs, a spaceship of some kind, parasols, a hat with ear flaps and a tassel, weapons, and strawberries.

“What the ever-lovin’ shit is that supposed to be?” Bucky demanded.

“Clint picked it out. Kept calling me ‘Captain Tightpants’ and saying everything was shiny. I think it’s from one of the shows he put in out Netflix queue. Yours is _Star Trek_ , I think. Or _Star Wars_? Which one has the lightsabers?” Steve grabbed Bucky’s sweater and tried to shove it over his head.

“Knock it off, you punk. Steve, stop! I’m not wearing it!” Bucky was struggling but fighting a losing battle when Steve managed to get his head through the hole and was trying to work his metal arm into the sleeve.

“No. You promised. There! Put it on the other arm and let’s go. You look great!”

The green sweater sported something that was decidedly _not_ a moon, lightsabers, droids, and four-legged robots.

“It’s _Star_ _Wars_ , by the way,” Bucky said, resignedly shoving his arms through the sleeves. “You’ve seen it enough times with Sam; you ought to know by now. And you messed up my hair. Hang on, let me retie it.”

By the time Bucky had fixed his ponytail, Steve was buttoning up his coat, already wrapped in gloves and a scarf, a hat pulled low over his ears to keep the chill off of them.

“Come on. We don’t want to get stuck here.” He reached for the knob, but Bucky’s hand over his stopped him.

“Would it really be so bad to be stuck here tonight? It’s Christmas Eve, and it’s quiet. We don’t get quiet very often,” Bucky said, wrapping his arms around Steve’s waist and resting his head on Steve’s stupidly broad shoulder.

In fact, it had been Bucky’s idea to go there in the first place. Clint was nice enough to allow the team to stay at his farm whenever they wanted, provided they restocked the fridge. Steve and Bucky had been to the store that afternoon and stocked the fridge to bursting, knowing that everyone would be descending upon the farm on New Year’s Eve to get away from the noise of the city. Despite Tony’s penchant for the ridiculous, even he valued privacy and quietude sometimes.

Steve automatically snuggled up against Bucky. “We promised we’d be there for the party.”

“Fine. But if the roads are shit, we’re not leaving the porch,” Bucky sighed, pulling his glove over his right hand and jamming a hat over his head. Then, he shrugged on his blue pea coat. It wasn’t quite the same as the one he had before the war, but he loved the warmth of the wool and the way it seemed to make Steve’s eyes go all nostalgic and tender.

Steve opened the door and looked out. The entire farm was coated in a thick, glowing blanket of untouched snow. Bucky smiled smugly.

“We’ve got to try, Buck. Call Nat and let her know we’re going to be late,” Steve said, looking unhappy at the prospect of driving in at least six inches of snow.

“C’mon, it’s too bad out. Let’s just stay. We’ve got everything we need.” Bucky grabbed Steve’s hand and tried to drag him back into the house.

“No. It’s your fault we’re so late. You – ”

“My fault?” Bucky demanded, incredulous. “You coulda said no, punk. My fault, he says. No one forced you to your knees!”

“Yes, your fault. You knew we had to go back tonight, so help me clean the car off and just pray that we can get out of the drive.” Steve put on his best, most commanding Captain America voice.

If Steve was playing dirty, and he was, because he knew damn well that voice got Bucky hot under the collar, then Bucky would play dirty, too.

“ _Later on, we’ll conspire…_ ” Bucky crooned.

“No,” Steve said, though he was smiling.

“ _While we dream by the fire…_ ”

“Bucky, stop it. We’re leaving. Help me clean the car off.”

“ _To face unafraid the pl -_ Fine,” Bucky growled, knowing he wasn’t going to talk Steve into staying. He stomped out the door and down the stairs, only slipping once he found a particularly slick spot.

Steve grinned, locking the door behind him and hitting the remote starter on the big SUV. He managed to avoid slipping, turned on the heaters full-blast, and popped the trunk. He tossed their bags in and pulled out two large snow brushes. He handed one to a decidedly grumpy Bucky and they set to work battling the still-heavily-falling snow to clean the windows off. When they finally had the majority of the snow off, Bucky handed Steve the brush and climbed into the front seat where he turned on the seat warmer and aimed the heater directly at his feet.

Steve hopped into the driver’s seat and clipped his seatbelt into place. “Ready?” he asked.

“No,” Bucky groused bluntly.

“Stop being a jerk. We promised we’d go back to the city and spend the holiday with our friends,” Steve reminded him as he put the SUV into gear.

“If we get stuck, you’re carrying me back,” Bucky grumbled, even going so far as to cross his arms over his chest and slump down in his seat as far as the belt would allow.

“I’ll make it up to you,” Steve purred, reaching for Bucky’s hand.

Bucky tucked his hand under his other arm and sulkily glared out the window, completing his transformation into an overly-emotional teenager. Steve couldn’t help but laugh, which made Bucky crack a grudging grin.

“You’re damn right you will. Okay, Captain America, let’s see you maneuver this thing onto the highway.” Bucky sat up a little straighter and reached for the controls for his seat warmer.

“While I enjoy your buns being toasted, please don’t turn that up too high,” Steve admonished. He put the SUV into gear and very gingerly tapped the gas pedal. The tires spun for a moment but eventually caught. “Ha, we’re in business.”

“Don’t get cocky. You could still get stuck.” Bucky grumbled then fell quiet, watching the snow fall through the twin spears of their headlights. As badly as he wanted to push Steve’s buttons right now, sing more of ‘Winter Wonderland’, or even ‘Let It Go,’ he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t do anything to break Steve’s concentration. Once they were ass-deep in a snow drift, then he’s start busting Steve’s balls.

Steve managed to get the SUV pointed in the right direction and they were slowly inching down the road toward the tree line. Everything was going rather well for about a mile, and then Steve found a particularly bad spot. He turned into the skid but it wasn’t enough. They gently rolled into a deep snow drift, coming to a full stop with an easy tap to the breaks. Steve had been barely been going ten miles per hour, and it would take more than a kiss to a snow bank to hurt the two of them, but still Steve reached for Bucky’s hand and turned with a sheepish, worried look on his face.

“You okay, Buck?” he asked.

Bucky was grinning. “Oh, I’m beautiful, baby. I get a mile-long piggy back ride back to the house that we never should have left in the first place, and you making this whole mess up to me.”

“I can get us out of here. Just give me a minute,” Steve said confidently.

Fifteen minutes later, Bucky was demanding that Steve give up. “I know you don’t like admitting defeat, you punk, but you need to. No amount of careful rocking and kitty litter spread behind the wheels is going to get us out of here. I’m calling Natalia and you’re carrying me back to the house.”

“I’m not carrying you,” Steve said firmly.

“Wanna bet?” Bucky countered, pulling Starkphone from his pocket and tapping Nat’s name. He put the call on speaker.

“I’m guessing this call is to inform me that you’re not coming,” Natasha said by way of greeting.

“Steve drove us into a snow bank about a mile from the house,” Bucky explained.

“If you two were that desperate to be alone, you could have just called. You didn’t need to destroy one of my cars,” Tony said, obviously having stolen the phone.

“I didn’t destroy your car, Tony. It’s fine. We’re fine, too. Thanks for asking,” Steve said with the tone one might use on a tantrum-prone toddler.

“Steve’s carrying me back to the house. I’ll text you when we’re there,” Bucky said, ending the call before Steve could say anything else.

“I’m not carrying you.” Steve popped the trunk and then got out, digging around for their bags.

“Yes you are. I’ll hold the bags, but you’re carrying me.” Bucky took the bags from Steve’s hands and, quick as can be, was jumping on Steve’s back.

Steve grunted but took his weight easily enough. “Jesus, Buck, lay offa the Christmas cookies, will ya?”

“I’m not the one who ate an entire tin of fudge before it was even completely cool. Now, on Dasher, on Dancer, on Prancer, and Vixen!” Bucky crowed.

“Shut up,” Steve growled, adjusting his grip on Bucky’s thighs, which were wrapped around his waist.

 “You’re quite the fox, Stevie,” Bucky murmured in his ear.

“I will make you walk,” Steve threatened, glancing up where Bucky’s chin rested on his shoulder.

Bucky pressed a quick kiss to Steve’s ear and settled himself more comfortably, melting into Steve. They made it back to house quickly and Bucky dropped to his feet silently. They carried their bags back inside and Bucky immediately went to the fireplace in the living room to start a fire.

“I’m so cold,” he said, wrapping a blanket around his shoulders. He still wore his coat, boots, gloves, and hat.

“You’re cold because you made me carry you. I have no sympathy,” Steve said, stripping down to his sweater and  moving into the kitchen to put on a pan of milk for hot cocoa. He fussed around for a few minutes, making them both rich mugs of cocoa, and then moved into the living room, dropping onto the couch beside Bucky.

“Aw, c’mon, Stevie. Get me warm. You’re good at it,” Bucky said, lying down with his head in Steve’s lap.

Steve glared fondly down at Bucky before hauling him up and tugging his hat off. “Skin to skin will get you warmer faster.”

“Is that so?” Bucky asked, tossing his glove over the back of the couch. He took his coat off and reached for Steve.

“It always worked when we were kids.” Steve worked Bucky’s sweater and t-shirt over his head and tossed them on the floor before pulling him in for a lingering kiss.

“You, too,” Bucky said warmly against Steve’s lips. He dragged Steve’s sweater and undershirt up over his chest, chuckling when it got stuck on his head. Bucky pulled Steve against him, making Steve jump as his cold metal arm settled across Steve’s waist.

“Hey!” Steve grumbled.

Bucky was busy fumbling with Steve’s belt. “I don’t think there’s enough skin to skin contact.”

Steve shucked off his jeans and got Bucky up long enough to strip him down to his boxers. They settled back onto the couch, Bucky between Steve’s legs, his back pressed against Steve’s chest. He tucked the blanket around them, then took Steve’s hand and twined their fingers.

“I remember us being kids, 17 or so, maybe, and you were sick again. It was the dead of winter and your ma was working overnights at the hospital. I stayed up with you the whole night with my hand on your chest, just praying that you’d take another breath. That happened a lot. When we were little, I used to think that I was keeping you around by sheer force of will.” Bucky toyed with Steve’s fingers, sliding them between his own as he spoke.

“I’m pretty sure that’s exactly how I stayed alive. Between the two of us there was no one more stubborn in all o’ Brooklyn,” Steve said.

“In all o’ New York,” Bucky countered. They were both silent for a moment before Bucky cleared his throat. “When I started remembering things, before you found me, I was scared. I didn’t know what was happening, but I knew the man on the bridge. I knew he was important. Even when you caught up to me, and I could barely remember anything, I knew I needed you.”

“Love you, Buck,” Steve said, pressing a kiss to his temple. He wondered where Bucky was going with this, but let him work it out on his own.

“I love you, too, Stevie.” Bucky kissed Steve’s knuckles, running his thumb over his fourth finger. “So much. Will you...”

“Will I what?” Steve asked, working Bucky’s hair from the tie and carding his free hand through the strands.

“Will you marry me?” Bucky asked in a rush.

Steve smiled, kissed Bucky’s temple again. “Yeah, Buck. Although…”

“Although?” Bucky demanded, turning enough to look up at Steve.

“You kinda ruined your Christmas surprise,” Steve said. He reached for his jeans and dug around in the pocket. He came up with a small box and handed it over.

Bucky opened it, finding a simple platinum band. “’Til the end of the line’,” he read, then laughed.

“What? Did I get the wrong - ”

“Stevie,” Bucky said fondly. He grabbed his own jeans and pulled a matching box from his pocket. He handed it over, still chuckling.

Steve opened the box and grinned. The ring was an exact copy of the one he’d given Bucky.

Bucky turned in Steve’s lap and slid up his chest until they were face to face. “You gonna put it on me, or do I gotta do all the work?

“Jerk,” Steve muttered, sliding the ring onto Bucky’s right hand.

“Punk,” Bucky replied, placing Steve’s ring on his left hand. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! As always, come join me on tumblr at blackcamouflagewarpaint.tumblr.com!


End file.
